


this is love

by tabine



Category: Naruto
Genre: 100-prompts, Blatant Disregard for Basic Grammatical Rules and Sentence Structure, Chronology Is Not A Thing, F/M, Stream of Consciousness, Stylistic Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabine/pseuds/tabine
Summary: on life, growing up, and the things that fall in between: one-hundred sentences of nejiten introspection, courtesy of the 100-prompts community on livejournal (table c). canon-compliant — mostly. [part iii/x]





	1. part i — faith.

**this is love  
** **by tabine**

**—**

on life, growing up, and the things that fall in between: one-hundred sentences of nejiten introspection, courtesy of the 100-prompts community on livejournal (table c). canon-compliant — mostly.

**—**

_this is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. first to let go of life. finally, to take a step without feet.  
_ — rumi

**—**

**part i —** faith.  
_noun_ ; trust in something as true.  
originally posted friday 06 january 2017.

**—**

**001 —** mellow.  
"you've changed, you know," she tells him, right before the end; he frowns at her, unsure how to interpret the remark, and she laughs softly at his expression (her breath is warm against his lips, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth) before continuing, "in a good way, i promise: you used to be such a _jerk_ , before, and… well, i guess i never told you, but in case something happens — " (her voice is softer, now, but it does not waver; his heart swells with warmth and a thousand different emotions) "— i just want you to know, i am so _proud_ …"

 **002 —** eternal.  
on the first warm day of spring, she turns to him as they sit together beneath the shade of the old oak tree after a morning of training to ask, "hey, did you know — ?"  
(and there's a strangely wistful note to her voice that he has never heard before; he finds himself intrigued enough by this alone to look at her expectantly — )  
"apparently, there's this old tradition in the land of wind, where you give a dagger to someone you want to spend forever with; temari said it doesn't mean you have to marry that person, though, you just have have to be able to trust them with your life —"  
(he says nothing, merely waits for her to continue — )  
"the _dagger_ , though — !"  
(he's hardly surprised, and allows himself a knowing smirk, because he knows better than anyone her fondness for weaponry — )  
"— _listen_ , these daggers are _amazing_ : the blades are made of a special alloy that comes from meteorites that landed in the land of wind thousands of years ago, and the handles are inlaid with desert glass, and — okay, so i've only ever seen a picture of one before, but it was so _beautiful…_ "  
(then her voice trails off, as she gathers her thoughts, and he is content to admire her relaxed posture as he waits: the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her neck, her careless, comfortable sprawl on the grass beside him — )  
"but they're also _expensive_ , you know, because the materials for them are so rare, now — they last forever, apparently — and no one really makes them anymore because they're useless in a real fight, and mostly just for ceremony and show —"  
(she sighs; quietly, he tucks the information away in the back of his mind — )  
"…what i wouldn't _give_ to have one, though — i'd do just about _anything_!"

 **003 —** subtle.  
it had been a gradual change, a carefully slow and delicate thing difficult for even his eyes to see; he wonders when his perception of her had changed from acquaintance to friend, to comrade and rival and friend — the precise moment he'd begun to view her as something _more_.

 **004 —** cheat.  
the memory of a broken promise, she realizes with a start, is the worst reminder of old betrayals; she stares down at the dagger in shock (how could she have become so weak in the face of grief?) and disgust (she wonders if he's watching, if he hates her for forgetting) before setting the weapon down with trembling fingers, determined to rebound from this error ( _her lies_ ) and move forward, stronger than before (because that had always been their way, hadn't it?) —  
but he _is_ watching her, as it turns out (not that she has any way to know: the afterlife affords no method by which the dead may contact the living, after all); he smiles when he catches the glint of resolve in her eyes, the set of her jaw, and muses whether she realizes that _dishonest_ is something she could never be.

 **005 —** transparent.  
guy says nothing when they show up late to training one morning with hair disheveled and eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep; he opts instead to merely accept their latest excuse ("we were organizing my weapons and scrolls last night, and lost track of time…") with a dismissive wave of his hand, despite the amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth — really, they thought they were being _subtle_?

 **006 —** believable.  
on a day she finds herself feeling particularly philosophical, she looks at him curiously from the corner of her eye to ask, "have you ever had something you refused to give up on — ?"  
he pauses long enough to give her an irritable look (he hates being interrupted while meditating, she _knows_ that — )  
she frowns, but presses him further nonetheless: "come _on_ , you know you can tell me…"  
— at which point he glances at her again (though now in a vaguely considering sort of way): "i will open the cage and free my clan," he reveals, at length, and with such conviction in his voice that hearing it makes her heart ache (because she _knows_ : if anyone could do such a thing, it would be him — )  
"then let me help you," she tells him earnestly a moment later; all he does, then, is stare at her blankly, so she continues, undeterred, "you can't do it alone; i promise, you know i'll always have your back —"  
he considers her curiously: "very well," he says after a moment, and looks away from her to resume his meditation until lee and guy arrive — it's an underwhelming response, but she lets him be all the same: he's never been particularly good at reacting to things like this — "i accept your aid; thank you."

 **007 —** repeat.  
_comforting_ is hardly the word he would use to describe the way she cleans and sharpens her impressive arsenal of weaponry; even so, there is something oddly soothing in the manner with which she goes about the endless monotony of it all, and it does not take long for him to find a certain amount of catharsis in the sense of normalcy her routine brings (if she finds it strange that he takes to meditating as she cares for tools, she says nothing, and in time he comes to find that he is grateful for that, too).

 **008 —** addicted.  
it goes like this: one kiss turns to two, then three, and four —  
he loses count somewhere between the eleventh kiss and the sixteenth: she pushes him down against the bed, drags her lips experimentally along his throat (his breath hitches, when she bites softly where his pulse flutters erratically beneath his skin, and he groans), and, _oh_ —  
(later, he trails one pale, calloused finger along her spine — she shivers at his touch — and marvels at how easily she's able to overwhelm him.)

 **009 —** write.  
pretending she isn't at all affected by the way his pale eyes rove over her as she painstakingly inks another letter onto the scroll spread before her, she decides, is a feat worthy of praise in and of itself: she'd already ruined two other scrolls, now, thanks to the havoc his presence alone is wreaking upon her senses, and she doesn't need to look at him to know he's smirking at her in that insufferably smug way of his —  
and then his lips are suddenly at her ear as he asks her quietly, "are you aware that this character is incorrect — ?" in that smooth, low voice of his, pointing to the symbol in question and effectively catching her off-guard; reflexively, she jerks back in surprise (an arm winds around her waist, the moment her back makes contact with the hard planes of his chest, pulling her closer until she's settled in his lap and feels all of him against her; a small growl of frustration leaves her throat, and she berates herself for falling into such an obvious traps once again): the action causes her elbow to hit the edge of the low wooden table awkwardly, and she can only watch on in horror as the bottle of ink tips over, turning yet another precious scroll (and this time, her lap as well) into a dripping black unsalvageable mess even as he presses his mouth against the nape of her neck, lips already curved in pointed self-satisfaction.

 **010 —** soulful.  
within a year of the war's end, a new weapons shop quietly establishes itself upon one of the village's more seldom-visited street corners, in what had once been an old tea shop now refurbished and renovated to better suit the demands of the modern world; even so, it is impossible to ignore entirely the sense of solemn antiquity and tradition that settles heavily upon those who set foot within, where the perfumed smoke of incense wafts from a small shrine near the window and elegant scrolls with yellowed edges decorate the walls, and the ochre-gray eyes of the the pretty young lady behind the shop counter watch the customers with a bittersweet, pensive sort of consideration that seems far too world-weary in a face so youthful.

**—**

**notes —** writing this is turning out to be a really wonderful experiment in style, introspection, thematic shenanigan, character growth, and plot development. hopefully, though, i'm mostly just hoping that this isn't nearly as pretentious or condescending as i'm afraid it is. even though it probably will be. whoops. :x  
originally started working on this back in december as a form of stress relief during finals, and was initially planning on posting it as a oneshot. ultimately, though, i figured that a chaptered thing might actually be better than having one giant page of text, especially given the way some of these fills are formatted. that being said, i'll hopefully be able to update date this once every other weekend (not counting this weekend's planned updates — because of the new year, and how long i've been working on this, i sort of want to get things started right, blah, blah blah), so. yeah. heh.  
oh. and there will be ten parts, too. figure i should mention that, just in case.  
thanks for reading — feedback, like always, is appreciated!


	2. part ii — memory.

**this is love  
** **by tabine**

**—**

on life, growing up, and the things that fall in between: one-hundred sentences of nejiten introspection, courtesy of the 100-prompts community on livejournal (table c). canon-compliant — mostly.

**—**

_this is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. first to let go of life. finally, to take a step without feet.  
_ — rumi

**—**

**part ii —** memory.  
_noun_ ; ability to hold in the mind.  
originally posted sunday 08 january 2017.

**—**

**011 —** broken. **  
** it is a rash decision, she knows, and hardly rational, yet there is some bitter part of her that yearns for — no, _demands_ the acknowledgement the action is sure to bring (and it isn't a sign of weakness, she assures herself, but one of _strength_ ); it is with cold pride she begins to wear the few remaining fragments of her shattered heart upon her sleeve, and at her hip a trinket whose only purpose is that of frivolous sentimentality, in those early days of fragile peace — resolve flashes in her eyes like tempered steel, and she challenges the world to tell her otherwise.

 **012 —** stop time. **  
** they're eighteen years old and laying in the shadows cast by the gnarled oak tree that marks the boundary of their training field when he turns to her and presses something into her hands; she looks down and gasps (she's seen only a picture of one, once, yet there is no mistaking the shards of yellow desert glass inlaid into the handle, the ornate designs engraved into the metal-and-leather scabbard) before her gaze flies back up to meet his; he smiles at her softly, and the world seems to come to a complete and sudden halt: "it is a proposal," he murmurs, "and one i hope you are inclined to accept."

 **013 —** alcohol.  
"so," she begins, nestling herself closer to his side, "what do you think about the umeshu..?"  
raising his glass to his lips, he takes a contemplative sip; "it is very sweet —"  
with a roll of her eyes, she mutters, "i suppose i should have expected such an astute observation, coming from a genius and all…"  
"you asked me a question; i gave you an answer —"  
lazily (they've been drinking long enough, now, that their movements are languid, their senses pleasantly dulled as the world spins around them) she grins, tipping her chin up to press her lips against the underside of his jaw; "i know, i know: i'm just teasing you."

 **014 —** pauses.  
by the time she reaches the end of the story about the dagger and the moon-eyed prince, the old woman's audience has grown considerably, and the children murmur amongst themselves in quiet contemplation before one thinks to ask, in the way young ones are wont to do, "did you ever see the prince again — ?"  
the question, so innocent and sweet that her heart can't help but _ache_ for it, takes her aback; reaching for the lacquered cup of green tea at her side, the old woman takes a contemplative sip, allows herself to become lost in the memories of a lifetime past (only for a heartbeat, only for eternity) before she snorts, sets down the cup with perhaps a bit more force than she'd intended: "of course not — princes like him have better things to do than wait around for old ladies with knives, after all."

 **015 —** affront.  
"all i've done is wait for you —"  
these are his first words to her, when they meet again in the afterlife; his voice is laced with a hint of indignation and bittersweet amusement that makes her want to laugh and cry all at once (they're eighteen again, and she can almost believe they'd never been sent off to war); she opts to do both, burying her face in the crook of his neck to mask her tears; "just be quiet an hold me," she demands, to which he rolls his eyes but complies all the same — and, _oh_ , how she's missed him.

 **016 —** run. **  
** an official proclamation is made the day it is decided the practice of the caged bird seal is to be abolished, and the system that separates the main and branch houses dismantled; it takes her a moment, at first, to understand exactly has happened ("hiashi-sama and hinata-sama insisted you were the first person outside the clan to know," the young hyuuga sent to inform her says, upon reading the unasked questions in her eyes) before realization finally dawns on her (it is warm and vibrant, and settles into her soul, her very _heart_ ) and then she is sprinting, as fast as her legs will carry her — out the shop and down the street, flying through the village as though her feet had been granted wings, until she finds herself in front of a too-familiar grave; "i don't know if you heard," she tells him, and her voice is thick with victory and bittersweet emotion, "but it happened — the cage is _open_ , now: your family is _free_."

 **017 —** experience. **  
** with each new encounter comes knowledge gained: together they learn, building upon what the past has offered, and the unknown things the future brings, and in time it becomes something entirely natural (for him to press his mouth to her more insistently when he feels her tense against him, for her to pay attention to the moment his breath hitches in that tell-tale way and tauten her muscles accordingly) — for them to simply _be_ , and nothing more.

 **018 —** fatality. **  
** mortality is not something that has crossed her mind with any great amount of gravity until the day he agrees to have his palm read; "your life line isn't that obvious, compared to the rest of your hand," she replies, when he raises an eyebrow in query at her grim expression, "but i wouldn't worry too much about it: everything else is strong and clear, though — you've got quite a life ahead of you!"

 **019 —** helping hand. **  
** his voice is silk against her skin, his mouth a drug; she trembles, arching against him with a sharp intake of breath; "there, now," he murmurs in her ear, as his clever fingers continue to move against her (she lets out a low, keening moan, and knows, then, that she can no longer deny the affect he has on her) — "doesn't that feel better?"

 **020 —** breeze. **  
** a wind picks up as they settle themselves in the grass beneath the shade of the great oak tree, the chill it carries a welcome relief against their hot and sweaty skin (because training for team guy is nothing if not intense and demanding); lee grins widely at nothing in particular from his ungainly sprawl on the ground, while their prodigy sits upright at the base of the trunk with perfect poise and posture, hands folded neatly in his lap and lips pressed together in a thin line; with a soft smile, she takes her place in the space between them, and closes her eyes in content.

**—**

**notes —** as was mentioned last time, this chapter is the only exception for the planned posting schedule for this fic: from here on out, i plan on updating this fic every two weeks — this chapter was posted early in order to get the ball rolling on the more chronology-oriented points of the story as a whole, so. yeah. :D  
other notes: _umeshu_ is liqueur made from japanese plums, and is known to be either sweet or sour. we also get more into the symbolism/thematic aspects of what i've been affectionately referring to as the "dagger arc" (although it technically was introduced in the first chapter itself) and is also probably one of my favorite parts of the general storyline of this piece. also introduced in the first chapter was what i like to call the "cage arc", since i'm still slightly (read: _very_ ) bitter about the way canon handled — or, as the case may be, _didn't_ — naruto's promise to neji about getting rid of the caged bird seal et al.  
don't worry if you've missed on any of these things, though. hopefully, chronology things will be cleared up further with subsequent updates.  
thank you so much for reading, everyone! if you have time to spare, please leave a bit of feedback if you can — i always love hearing what you guys have to say!


	3. part iii — promise.

**this is love  
** **by tabine**

**—**

on life, growing up, and the things that fall in between: one-hundred sentences of nejiten introspection, courtesy of the 100-prompts community on livejournal (table c). canon-compliant — mostly.

**—**

_this is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. first to let go of life. finally, to take a step without feet.  
_ — rumi

**—**

**part iii —** promise.  
_verb_ ; assure someone that one will definitely do, give, or arrange something; undertake or declare that something will happen.  
originally posted sunday 22 january 2017.

**—**

**021 —** get up. **  
** her last few years on earth are painful ones: bones and joints, swollen and rheumatic with age, creak and pop with every movement; from his place in the afterlife, he can do nothing but watch helplessly as she struggles to accomplish a task as simple as lifting herself from her seat behind the counter of her shop.

 **022 —** villain.  
a lesser being, hinata thinks during the funeral, surely would have wasted no time in blaming her for the role she'd played in her cousin's death; it is a testament to the older woman's integrity and strength of character, she decides, when she approaches their family afterwards, jaw clenched and hazel eyes steely, and hoarsely tells them _i'm sorry for your loss —_  
(and it is for this reason alone that hinata pretends she does not notice the ornamental blade worn openly at the other woman's hip: the pain is still too fresh, and the grief too raw, and she will not tarnish her cousin's legacy by adding insult to injury.)

 **023 —** worst day. **  
** weddings, she knows, are meant to be joyous affairs; even so, there is a heavy weight in her chest as she observes the newlyweds after the ceremony that she isn't quite able to move past — a part of her can't help but remain bitter about the things forced to remain behind, and the moment she consciously understands this is more terrible by far than any that had come before.

 **024 —** bewitching. **  
** kunoichi are taught from a young age the sway they hold over the actions of men; it is an important lesson, and one that never strays far from her conscious mind, though it is not until she undresses for him that first time and sees for herself how his pale eyes grow dark and intense as he watches her (he does not look away when she finally bares herself to him, and she meets his gaze defiantly, with her chain raised and gaze steadfast, determined not to blush) that she begins to understand the simple power her body has to offer, and it does not take long for her, later, to gain a quiet sort of appreciation for the advantages it brings.

 **025 —** jubilant. **  
** he finds it quite by accident while on a mission in the land of wind, a flash of yellow and pale blue-gray that catches his attention as he's performing reconnaissance in a bazaar — he asks the old man standing behind the stall about the dagger without a second thought (she had been correct, he wryly muses to himself later: the thing is far more costly than he'd anticipated, though it matters little, to him) and he is startled, somewhat, when he finds a certain amount of satisfaction in imagining what her elated reaction might be to receiving such a gift.

 **026 —** languid.  
"hey," she whispers, catching his hand, pulling him back against her, "just where do you think you're going —"  
(and it's so easy, he thinks, to let her warmth seep back into his exhausted muscles, sink deep into his aching bones, as he lays himself back down beside her.)

 **027 —** obsessive.  
"i-it's not as easy as you t-think," hinata tells her, "m-my father —"  
"— _will_ listen to what i have to say," she retorts, running an absentminded finger along the hilt of the dagger she wears openly at her waist, now, on the occasions, few and far between though they may be, she finds herself at the hyuuga estates, "i made a promise, you know and —"  
"it's not hiashi that's the problem," naruto interjects, then, "it's those stick-in-the-mud elders —"  
"well, i _did_ get through to one stick-in-the-mud hyuuga, you know — i don't care if it takes years: compared to one bratty, cynical, _insufferable_ genius, a bunch of old people stuck in their backwards ways won't be any trouble at all."

 **028 —** recoil. **  
** when she throws her arms around his neck in victorious elation, the day she first bests him in a one-on-one spar, his immediate reaction is to pull himself away from her as soon as he can: they're doused in sweat, after all, and the heat of another body against one's own after such intensive training is hardly comfortable; he fights the instinct, somehow, and can't help the smirk that curves his lips as she gasps and extricates herself from him in response when he settles his hands on her waist to hold her closer.

 **029 —** vehement. **  
** emotions do not run rampant and wild as he expects them to, the day he makes his decision known to the head of his clan; hyuuga hiashi merely regards him with mild and pointed interest ("is that so," comes the vague and even response, "very well, i have no objections —") before turning back to the documents and scrolls at hand — it is only much later, when he is alone in the sanctuary of his room and observing the play of light and shadow upon the dagger's ornate handle, that he wonders precisely what it is that hiashi seems to know.

 **030 —** collide. **  
** after returning from their last mission, she is home for all of precisely three minutes before he shows up at her door, still covered in the grime and dust of the journey; he's barely taken a step into her apartment before his hands are at her waist and his lips are crashing against her own, needy and hot — they collapse against the couch soon after, and it does not take long for her to become lost in his strength, and the warmth of his touch on her skin.

**—**

**notes —** not a lot going on, here, but i've just realized this chapter is much more bittersweet than the ones prior to it (though i'd be remiss if i didn't confess to preferring it this way). :p we get a little more into the dagger arc, and also a bit of the cage arc, too — i don't think i'll ever stop being bitter about the way canon handled naruto's promise of ending the practice of the caged bird seal, so here's a bit more of my continued attempt at addressing that.

thanks again for reading — feedback, like always, is greatly appreciated! see you again in two weeks for part iv!


End file.
